


At Night III

by MuscleMemory



Series: You Call And I Respond, The Sparrow And The Song [16]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 08:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuscleMemory/pseuds/MuscleMemory
Summary: Alec's trying to fight his ghosts alone at night. He doesn't have to for long.Another stand alone drabble.





	At Night III

His head twitches suddenly, tearing him out of his sleep. He feels dazed and heavy, the room plunged in darkness when earlier as he went to bed just to take a nap as he couldn’t keep his eyes open, the last beams of the autumn sun had tickled his face gently, lulling him to sleep.

He recognizes the startling noise as heavy rain outside, wind lashing against the windows, his heart taking on the same frantic rhythm. He closes his eyes, inhales deeply and exhales slowly. He turns on his back, rubs his forehead and eyelids and sighs sorrowfully, letting his hand and arm drop listlessly next to his side. He blinks, frowning, the discomfort he felt waking up slowly worsening. His throat feels constricted, his chest moves onerously, his stomach ailing.

His skin feels clammy, prickling with tiny goosebumps heightening his unease. He turns abruptly, sliding his arm beneath the pillow, pushing his face into the silk, holding his breath for a minute, releasing it loudly while dipping his head up and resting his chin on the pillow instead, facing the window now, clearly seeing the thick rain in the irregular flashing of the lightning in the sky.

He focuses on the sight before him, the way the bed sheets feel on his naked skin, trying to conjure the ever-present consolation lying in _his_ bed usually gives him. It isn’t there.

He closes his eyes and concentrates on his breathing, inhales the beloved scent that lingers, but all the demons he’s stifling day after day are re-emerging, morphing into the faces of loved ones he betrayed and harmed, the innocents he killed. All that torment inflicted by his own two hands that feel cold and shaky, too weak to be able to hold his blade.

_Regret can bring you to your knees._

He doesn’t remember who told him that, but he feels crippled by the impact, already bearing an abundance of remorse in his young life. He doesn’t know why it’s tormenting him tonight, in his safe place, but he knows why he can’t shake it off.

_He’s_ not here.

Most of the time just being surrounded by his presence, his possessions, is enough. But sometimes, like tonight, he needs more. More than the embrace of the silk sheets, more than his smell, and the imagination of his arms around him. Smooth lips kissing him, soft facial hair tickling him, endless warmth, strength, above all affection cloaking him. He needs more, he needs Magnus.

He’s breathing heavily, gradually becoming aware of himself again, dove into his mind too deeply, getting lost too easily in seclusion.

His heart stops beating. One, two, three seconds.

A shiver surges through him suddenly, and he holds his breath, trying to hear desperately above the patter of the rain and the swishing wind, afraid he only imagined it.

The instant soft footsteps of barefeet on carpet resound, his body sags, stripped from painful tenseness, relief washing over him so overwhelmingly he can’t move before he can feel the bed dip behind him, movement under the sheets and finally a warm body pressing against his backside, and a ringed, warm hand touching his elbow, caressing up to his shoulder.

“Alexander?”

He feels the burn in his eyes, the rawness in his throat, one whispered word, _his_ name, spoken in the most beloved voice, filling him with soothing pleasure, dispersing his darkness.

He turns quickly, his arms and a leg wrapping around Magnus tightly, his face pressing into his collarbone, gliding up into his neck, his breathing now alleviated, and without being bidden, Magnus’ arms close around him protectively, shielding him from any hurt, and Alec knows, even though it’s never truly gone, with Magnus close like this, he’ll be able to endure all that’s been and all that will be. And he’ll do anything to do the same for his love, for as long as he’ll live.

“Bad dream?” Magnus whispers, his fingers running through Alec’s hair gingerly, sending delicious chills through him.

“No, ghosts.” Alec replies quietly, trying to press even closer into him.

“Ah.”

Alec smiles meekly, even that sound full of understanding and solace. And then Magnus starts to talk softly, telling him about his day, his hands touching him tenderly all the while, and Alec listens reverently to every word, brimming with gratefulness, joy and love, eventually seeking out Magnus’ mouth, giving more than words could in return.


End file.
